Forgotten
by The Jotun
Summary: Sherlock, the world's only consulting detective, has amnesia. Forgotten who he is and how he deducts, and he's struggling to remember before his brain abandons him and he becomes... normal. (A week after THOB)
1. Chapter 1

_**Sherlock's Point of View**_

My head was groggy. I tried to clear it, but the drug hadn't fully worn off yet. I opened my eyes and squinted at the bright light above me. My head flopped to the side. Someone steadied my head with their hand and faced it upwards again. There was a silhouette above me. My mind was frantically trying to figure out _something_ about the person in front of me, but I couldn't. I started to panic. My brain wasn't working properly-

"Sherlock!" The figure breathed a sigh of relief. _Sherlock? _I thought as I sat up. The person sat up with me. My head was spinning. "Thank god you're okay!" I blinked and the black dots disappeared from my vision.

A confused look glanced across my face. "Who the heck are you?" The man sitting in front of me had short grey hair and brown eyes. That's all I could see. I couldn't deduce anything. I shook my head slowly, again trying to clear it.

"Really funny, Sherlock. We'd better be off," he said hauling me up. I pushed him away and took a few steps back.

"Get off of me." I snarled. I could feel my brain starting to subside, to give up hope that it would ever be able to _think _again. I grabbed his jacket and lifted him off of the floor and slammed him onto the wall behind him. His legs flailed about, kicking me, but I just stood there, feeling nothing. He punched me in the face. I bared my teeth at him. "Who are you and where am I?"

He hesitated with a dubious look on his face. I slammed him again on the wall. "How about we calm down a little-" _Slam. _"Alright! Sherlock, I'm your flat mate, John…"

_**John's Point of View**_

I stared into Sherlock's flaming brown eyes. His pupils were really dilated. My brain automatically kicked into a state of medical analysis. "Were you drugged, Sherlock?"

He dropped me and walked away. His hands ruffled his hair and started pulling in frustration. "I can't think." He muttered over and over to himself.

An idea flashed into my head. "What can you deduce about me?" I questioned. He half-turned back, and I thought my idea had worked and cleared his mind. But then he glared at me from under his locks.

"I can't deduce **anything.**" He growled at me. I gasped in shock. _What? _He turned away again and started to run through the car park. In my shocked state, I stood, watching his coat flare out behind him for a second, before I ran after him.

As we broke out into the open air, Sherlock stopped and looked around. "The flat is this way-" I began, but he ran off in the other direction. I sighed and followed. He could have been drugged, or maybe he was hit? I tried to discern a bump under his curly hair, but I couldn't see one. Concussion? I thought, but then knocked the thought aside. He was running… although he did look slightly unbalanced. Amnesia seemed more appropriate. He didn't know who I was, and didn't remember how to observe anything, so it was possible, and being hit was seeming more likely. I didn't even know how he deduced things, so I couldn't help him at all in that area.

As my feet pounded along the ground, all I could think was _I've__** got **__to get him to Mycroft._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sherlock's Point of View**_

I ran through unfamiliar streets, trying to find anywhere that I recognised. People stared at me oddly as I rushed past, and I could hear the man, John, I believe, panting behind me. My legs were much longer than his and I ran at twice the speed, and he stopped to apologise to anyone that I ran into, so he was falling behind.

I ran into another man, but this one took my momentum and grabbed my arm. I pulled away as he looked at me with an incredulous expression. "What the- Sherlock, what the hell are you doing here? Did you solve the Tintagel case?" My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

John finally reached us. "I think he-" he panted. I looked at him, irritated. "I think he lost his memory." I looked at him. I still couldn't observe anything from him. My head felt... vacant. Empty. _No, no, no... _I thought to myself. I needed to get my brain back in working order or... Or I'd be stuck, useless, like this, forever. I felt my knees give out, but my eyes were closed as I rooted around in my head for something, anything to jump-start my brain.

"Woah," the man in front of me said as he caught me by the elbow. John supported my back and guided the three of us to a seat of some kind. I could hear rushing water. I slumped forwards, face in my hands as I began to massage my temples. _Come on..._ I thought.

"He didn't remember me, he couldn't deduce anything about me... Lestrade, this could be serious. This is worse than he looked in Dartmoor, last week. And then he was really scared, and he doubted himself. Now he just seems... gone."

The man next to me, presumably Lestrade, let out a gasp. "Dear god. We've got to get him to a hospital." I leapt up, only to sway around unbalanced a few steps away from where I was previously sitting. I had been on the edge of a fountain, and still seated there, were John and this Lestrade man.

I pointed at both of the men in quick succession. "You two don't know the slightest _thing _about me, or what goes on in my head."

"Well I agree with the latter," Lestrade laughed and John smirked. "Sherlock, listen." I shook my head. I didn't want to listen to the ramblings of some complete _stranger. _Lestrade and John looked at eachother and nodded. I raised an eyebrow, but then the two rushed forwards and caught me unaware, each grabbing an elbow. They started to drag me away, my shoes dragging against the floor. I thrashed about but they didn't release their holds.

"You can't _do _this! It's assault!" I cried in despair.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Lestrade grinned. My heart sank slightly, but then I started screaming.

"HELP! HELP ME!" People just walked on by. What type of a place has people who just get up and kidnap others, and then no one gives the slightest care to help them?

I kept shouting as they dragged me away.

_**John's Point of View**_

I hated to see Sherlock like this. So defenseless, so out of character... It was just unnatural for him to be sitting in the interrogation room, staring right at the one-way glass with a steely expression on his face whilst we decided what to do with him. Sally walked past us, then stopped and walked back again.

"Freak?" she said. She turned to me. "I told you that he'd get bored. What did he do? Kill someone?"

I rolled my eyes. "No." _At least I hope not, _I added in my head. "We think he lost his memory, he put up a fight so we had to get him away from people. He even forgot how to do what he does best."

"Being a freak?" Sally laughed and continued walking with a grin plastered on her face. I turned back to Lestrade.

"Shall we give Mycroft a call?" I asked. Lestrade thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. "I'll give him a call... Sherlock has his coat, right?" Lestrade gestured through the one-way glass at Sherlock's trench coat, wrapped around him.

I got up and walked into the room. "Sherlock," I began.

"Are you sure that's even my name?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of the glass. "One of the agents said I was a pathological liar, so are you sure?"

I tried to take the look of shocked confusion off of my face as I said, "Pretty sure, yeah." I grinned. "I need your-"

"Is your name John?" he butted in. "How can I trust any of you? I don't, and I don't think I should, either."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on, Sherlock. Give me your coat."

"No." he said simply.

I gritted my teeth. "Okay give me your address book." He shook his head, his eyes still transfixed on the glass. "Sherlock! For god's sake I'm trying to help you!"

He turned his steely grey eyes on me and stood up, agitated. "I don't want to be helped!" He shouted violently, stalking me into a corner. "I'm perfectly fine so won't you _leave me __**alone!**_**"** I left him staring at the corner of the wall where my head used to be, as I walked out of the room without Mycroft's number. I shrugged at Lestrade's look.

I needed to acquire Mycroft's number a different way.


	3. Chapter 3

_**John's Point of View**_

An idea popped into my head. I ran outside and started jumping up and down in front of a security camera. I got a lot of funny looks as I pranced about, wishing that Mycroft was watching. I breathed a sigh of relief when a dark car pulled up and someone opened the door for me. "One second!" I shouted at the driver as I ran back inside the police station. "Give me a bag!" I called to Lestrade. He handed me a hessian bag with ladybirds on. I burst into the interrogation room and slammed the bag on Sherlock's head. He was frozen momentarily before he started fighting me, trying to get the bag off.

Lestrade rushed in and slammed the cuffs on his wrists. Donovan smirked at us as we dragged Sherlock out and into the car. Before the man holding open the door could move I had thrown Sherlock into the car and jumped in next to him. I gestured for him to get in the car and drive. I looked at Sherlock and realised I'd thrown him onto a woman sitting in the car. It was the same woman who I had met the first time I'd gotten into one of Mycroft's cars. I still didn't know her real name.

She had a shocked, disgusted look on her face as she shoved my flatmate off of her lap. I steadied him and he sat bolt upright. "For some _flatmate, _you're awfully militant." he snapped. I bit my lip and looked at the confused look on the woman's face. It was a silent car ride from then on.

We pulled up to a grand building, made of white brick. There were two huge marble pillars in front of an intricately designed oak door. The woman shooed me with her hands and I rolled my eyes, grabbing Sherlock by the shoulders and trying to pull him out. On the journey here he seemed to have wormed his hands underneath the back of his seat and hung onto something. "Sherlock, come on."

The lady got bored and pulled a lever which pulled the whole row of seats forward. Sherlock yelped as it crushed his fingers and let go. I managed to get him out of the car. Once out of the car, he stood up to his full height and very graciously let me lead the way. I sighed. He still continued to be a proud, stubborn man. The driver pushed open the oak doors and led us through the building... mansion, more like.

Mycroft stood up as we came into the room. I chuckled at his confused expression as he saw his brother, handcuffed with a bag over his head. Apart from that he looked relatively normal, his trench coat, blazer and shirt, and I was even pretty sure that he hadn't forgotten his pants this morning... which felt like a century ago.

_**Mycroft's Point of View**_

I regained my posture and gestured to a sofa in front of my armchair. Dr. Watson sat down and pulled my brother down with him. I raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

John took a deep breath and turned to my brother. "Are you going to cooperate now, Sherlock?" My eyebrows scrunched down together. He nodded slowly. Sherlock was actually _listening_ to what John was saying? Watson took the bag off of his head to reveal a very steely faced Sherlock.

"Who the hell is this?" he cried in exasperation, staring at my face. I leant forward and rested my head on my clasped hands, interested.

"Ah." Is all I said.

"This is your brother, Mycroft Holmes." John explained. "Your arch enemy."

I rolled my eyes. Sherlock always was theatrical, but to me he was just an annoying little brother who spoke out of line too much. I stood up and walked a few paces away to look out of the window. "Sherlock, tell me, how many times did Tintagel hit you on the head?" I looked over my shoulder to see his eyes glaze over with confusion. Even John looked confused. "Oh, don't mess around. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

A look of relief crossed his face. He turned to me with a slightly evil smile. His eyes sparkled in remembrance. "How's the diet?"


End file.
